Alive Again
by Darth Indurate
Summary: Mace Windu survives the fall, and the inevitable showdown with Vader is fast approaching. Action takes place 14 years B.B.Y. on Bakura. It has been some time since last updated, but will complete soon for people who have read what has been finished.
1. Prologue

Alive Again

_Prologue _

"The oppression of the Sith will never return! You, my lord, have lost."

Mace Windu's words echoed through the Chancellor's wind-blown chamber. The arrival of Anakin Skywalker was barely noticed by the two figures, one prone, the other standing over him with a lightsaber, adjacent to the magnificent, but ruined, transparisteel window.

"No, no, no! You will die", croaked Chancellor Palpatine as streaks of Force lightning flew from his horribly crooked fingers.

Windu's blade caught the brunt of the blast, and the Jedi barely stumbled back a step. The master of Vaapad let the dark energy flow through his blade and back at the powerful chief of state and Sith Lord. Skywalker, now close enough to the battle, flinched as the lightning crackled between the Jedi Master and the Chancellor.

Hardly turning his head, Palpatine spoke to the young knight to his left. "He's a traitor."

With equal ferocity, Mace Windu shouted, "_He_ is the traitor." An intense burst of lightning made the Jedi Master grunt, but he did not lose his focus on the man beneath his blade, and took another step towards him.

Sensing the Jedi's growing strength, Chancellor Palpatine pleaded to Anakin, "I have the power to save the one you love…you must choose."

For the first time since entering the room, Anakin's face twisted into a strange knot. He turned again to Windu, but his eyes were not those of a Jedi Knight. His wild hair and pale face completed the image, not of the handsome young man he was, but that of an ogre.

Windu sensed the younger man's confusion, and he allowed himself a momentary peek at Anakin. The Jedi master could almost feel the bile bubbling up into Skywalker's throat as his fear and anger billowed forth from their long hidden recesses. Windu shook his head slightly, managing to ward off yet another surge of lightning while uttering the words," Don't listen to him Anakin."

The Chancellor continued," Don't let him kill me. I can't hold it much longer. I…I…I can't hold it…son…I'm too weak. Anakin, help me…help me."

And then, with his last plea for Anakin's help, the Sith's strength seemed to vanish, and the lightning holding Mace Windu in place disappeared.

"I…I…I can't hold on any longer." Palpatine didn't even seem to realize that his face had been twisted and scarred beyond recognition. He was now little more than a flesh and blood gargoyle.

Windu seized upon the opening to pass judgment on the still smoldering man curled up in the cradle of the destroyed window.

"I'm going to end this once and for all." Windu's eyes burned fire as hot as the blade of his sword.

"You can't-"

Windu's eyes slid back to Anakin for a second with the realization that the young knight had not yet spoken since his arrival. The growing sense of betrayal flowed through the master like an acidic ocean tide.

"He must stand trial."

Windu was past the point of considering a trial for the creature below him.

"He has control of the senate and the courts", shouted Windu above the ever-present wind. " He's too dangerous to live."

Almost forgotten in the exchange between the two Jedi, the Sith lord wheezed again another plea for clemency. "I'm too weak. Aagh. Don't kill me…please."

Skywalker concurred. "It's not the Jedi way. He must live."

Windu had noticed a slight change in the young man's voice with his last words, but chose to ignore them. He was after all the only master in the room, and his decision had already been made. Everyone in the room can sense what Mace Windu is going to do next.

"Please don't."

"I need him," shouted the beleaguered Skywalker, realizing that he too had already decided what he must do. He watched Windu's blade rise into the air, and then, as if in slow motion, it started to fall again.

"Please don't." The look on the Chancellor's face was convincingly full of genuine despair.

"NO!!!!!!"

Anakin Skywalker's blade sprung to life as he whipped it out from its place on his left hip and slid effortlessly across his chest to his mechanical hand. A quick stab of Skywalker's hand sent the blade back to the left at an angle where its bright tip met Windu's wrist. Mace Windu almost didn't feel the lightsaber's heat as it severed the bone, muscle and blood of his hand from his arm.

But he found himself screaming nonetheless.

His lightsaber's purple blade zipped back into the hilt of the sword, before dropping out of sight into the blackness of Coruscant's underbelly.

The thought to be almost-dead Palpatine merely smiled. Then a look of rage engulfed his already melted face, and the Chancellor screamed his revenge at the still moaning Jedi Master.

"POWER!"

Windu's body convulsed as a new blast of Force Lightning struck him. This latest blast, amplified by Palpatine's rage, ripped through the Jedi's already damaged body like a hungry krayt dragon at mealtime.

"Unlimited power!"

Another ten seconds of lightning assaulted the great Jedi master before it finally lifted him into the air and out of the wrecked window. The Sith lord smiled again as the Jedi managed a strangled grunt as he plummeted to the ground below some three kilometers away.

XXX

Thousands of light-years away, on the embattled planet of Kashyyyk, Jedi Master Yoda clutched his diminutive chest and winced in great pain.

XXX

Makkan Libb lifted his head from the garbage receptacle from which he'd found his latest meal. He thought he had heard a thud; the peculiar wet thud of a slab of meat being forcefully slammed down onto a cutting board. He heard nothing now though, and continued to find more of the discarded, and more-green-than-it-ought-to-be, slices of bread. He nibbled on a second stale piece, when something else caught his ear.

A hawk-bat. At least one if not a small group of three or four. The creatures typically traveled in packs, but occasionally one strayed away from its group to hunt on its own.

But what would a hawk-bat be doing here at this time of night as the temperature steadily dropped well below its comfort zone thought the dark-skinned boy as he scooped the crumbs from his chin and into his open maw.

Unless it was very hungry. And if that were the case, it must have seen some food. The sound of the wet thud echoed in his mind.

Whatever it was, it was surely better than this three-week old bread.

Makkan gathered what few valuable scraps he had gathered from the dumpster and made off in the direction of the hawk-bat's cries. As he approached the increasingly louder screeches of the animal, he instinctively grabbed a long metal pipe that lay in a heap of rusting metal at the corner of a darkened alley. As he did so, the hawk-bat's cries became soft chirps. It had obviously found what it was after. Makkan leapt into the alley's shadows swinging his weapon wildly, and yelling at the unseen creature within.

"Go on, get out of here…Get you filthy - "

Makkan's words got lost somewhere between his throat and his mouth. As his eyes adjusted to the black of the alley, he could make out the silhouette of a small hawk-bat, probably a juvenile, perched atop the crumbled mass of what had surely once been a man. A small pool of blood had already formed around the figure's head, and the hawk-bat seemed intent on starting its meal there as it skipped over to where the blood was leaking out of the man's shaved skull.

Makkan found the strength to continue swinging wildly at the avian nightmare.

"Go on I said…GET."

The end of Makkan's improvised weapon caught the creature's outstretched wing, and it shot off into the heights of the alley, but not before hurling a bloodthirsty cry at the young boy. It hadn't gone very far, but it seemed wary to return to its meal while the boy stood there. Makkan swung again as the hawk-bat tried, unsuccessfully, to land. This time the hawk-bat hissed and flapped its wings in annoyance as it hovered over the boy and the body Makkan now straddled. Makkan lunged at the beast with the pipe, and caught it square on its hooked beak. The creature yelped, then flew off, obviously in search of less aggressive prey.

Certain the hawk-bat had gone for good, Makkan knelt down besides the man on the ground. The pool of blood around his head was still growing, but it seemed to have slowed down. Makkan noticed that the man's clothes were warm to his touch, and charred black in some places.

"Hey, hey mister, are you alright?" Makkan felt stupid asking the question aloud, but he didn't know what else to say. The boy felt at the man's neck for any sign of life, but found nothing. He cautiously lifted open one of the man's eyelids, and jumped away when the eye dilated with the introduction of what little light filtered into the dark alley.

"Oh no." Makkan whispered to himself. "This guy is still alive."


	2. Reappearance

_Chapter 1: Reappearance_

_Six Years after the Jedi Purge_

Onnie Gozzel's eyes adjusted to the growing light peeking through the paper-thin walls of his makeshift bedroom. He had kept to himself for the most part since joining the hearty band of rebels squirreled away in unsturdy huts in the forests near Gesco City. Since the end of the Clone Wars, the Outer Rim planet of Bakura had undergone great political upheaval and change; the native Kurtzen had recently demanded more representation in the government, the heirs to the Bakur Mining Corporation were busy arguing over who should lead the planet in the future, and the ever-widening appeal of Imperial Center and her armed forces tempted some of Bakura's best and brightest to leave the turmoil at home. Onnie just wanted things to be as they had been: peaceful and quiet. But now, not even the bright sun's promise of a new day seemed to bring that to him.

He slipped out from under the thin sheet of fabric stretched atop his body and the sorry excuse for a bed upon which he slept. He wanted to find Yalta before too long to see if his longtime friend had found out if they would be stealing into the city for more rations or spending another day sitting on their thumbs waiting for the orders to do something more decisive and, ultimately more destructive, to the quarreling upper classes who had deemed people like Onnie to be expendable.

Onnie Gozzel had been an artist in another life, and he'd lived quite comfortably once, until he'd gone public with his painting _Bakuran Blood Plains_ which clearly depicted the rise of the proletariat and the end of the ceaseless fighting amongst the upper classes. He had apparently angered the wrong powerful person, and had been arrested on charges of treason. Yalta had slipped him out of the city just days before his trial, and in return Onnie had made his friend a fugitive too.

"Hey, Onnie, I was just coming to see if you were up yet. I've got a feeling about today. Implik has called everyone to gather for a very important meeting. This could be our big day."

Yalta Malpayson's enthusiasm for "big meetings" never ceased to amaze Onnie. He had been in the camp for just over a week now, and had already attended three of Implik's "big meetings". They were usually nothing more than the latest political news from Saris D'aar or the newest, and mostly innocuous, plan to obtain more food from nearby Gesco City.

"You said that last time, Yalta. I think it may some be time to consider heading off in some other direction. I've heard from some of the people here that there is a well-established dissident camp on the other side of Vialian Lake. I heard that they live in peace with some of the Kurtzen. We could go there soon, I'm sure."

Yalta cocked his head to the right. His eyes bulged as he realized, perhaps for the first time since joining_ Deredith's Memory_ that Onnie really wanted no part of the "rebels" who had accepted the two fugitives from the corrupt Bakuran forces.

"How can you say that? These guys took us in when no one else would."

"What do you mean, 'no one else would'? This was the first group we found. There are other factions out there. Remember Rayna Tocklebee?" Onnie paused to let the name sink in to Yalta's memory banks. "She left Gesco City a couple of months ago and joined _The Talons of Bakura. _They were always making noise in the city and its government. They were _real_ rebels." He added his last words in a hushed voice so that the others who may have been nearby didn't hear.

Yalta shook his head in disbelief. He then turned and walked back towards the center of the camp.

"Wait, Yalta. I didn't mean to say that. I mean, I did, but it came out wrong."

Yalta executed a flawless 180 degree turn on his right heel and marched back to within a couple of centimeters of his friend's nose. Yalta's green eyes flashed, and Onnie took a quick step back from his friend.

"You got me into this mess in the first place. If I hadn't saved you from that transfer station last week, you'd be rotting away in prison right now. I can't believe this."

Yalta turned away again, only to turn around and verbally assault his friend again.

"And another thing. The last I heard, Rayna Tocklebee was rotting in that damn prison. So go ahead, join _The Talons of Bakura._ They're a bunch of rotten pirates anyway. They've got no real agenda. Implik," he sputtered, "Implik's got a plan. Or better yet, go join the Kurtzen camps on the other side of "Lake Wherever". Go ahead, but I am staying right here."

As quickly as Yalta had finished his piece, blaster fire ripped through the front of his shirt and splattered blood and gore onto Onnie Gozzel's surprised face. Yalta hadn't even had time to look down at the gaping hole in his chest before he fell face first onto the ground. Onnie looked wildly behind him, and was shocked to see Bakuran militia rising over the western ridge that surrounded the camp.

He managed a quiet, "Yalta", before diving back into his hut for the weapon the others had given him when he had first arrived. It was an old Mer-Sonn Q2 holdout blaster that had seen better days. Onnie had eyed it suspiciously when the rebels had given it to him eight days ago because it had been covered with a thin sheen of rust, but he had cleaned it as best he could since then. As he fumbled to put the unique power pack into the pistol, he realized that he had yet to fire the weapon, even in practice.

Shouts from outside his hovel, and more blaster fire broke the disparaging train of thoughts that had quickly curdled in Onnie's mind.

"I may just be a rebel yet," muttered the skinny artist as he stuck his weapon out the front door in preparation for any Bakuran soldiers that passed by.

Onnie waited hours for the next thirty seconds to go by. No soldiers came.

There was still blaster fire echoing through the hills to the west of Onnie's hut, but the charging soldiers had failed to appear in the camp proper. There was, however, as Onnie listened more closely, a second, puzzling sound accompanying the dwindling reports of military-issue blasters. A hypnotic electrical hiss sung its magical tune, and then, before long, the blaster fire was no more.

Onnie moved closer to the opening, deciding to put the gun behind his back, and see with his eyes what had happened to the green clad forces he'd ducked away from only minutes before. What he saw astonished him, and the Mer-Sonn Q2 slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the dry earth behind him.

A young man, no older than eighteen, with short jet-black hair stood amongst the dead and dying men of the Bakuran force. In his hands he held a short metal tube topped by a brilliant blue blade of light. It seemed like it was the boy's sword that had been doing all of the humming Onnie had heard earlier. Onnie fully stepped out of his shelter before taking in the grisliest details of the battle that had just been fought, and apparently won, by this strange young warrior.

What had once looked like a full battalion to Onnie, now only consisted of six well equipped, but injured or dead Bakuran men. Only one of them was still moving, and he was groaning loudly at the loss of both of his legs below the knees. Another soldier's chest lay at an impossible angle to his legs as Onnie realized that the man's torso had been complete separated from his trunk. The sight made Onnie retch a little before he gained his composure and stepped back from the statue still boy.

"Don't worry, we aren't here to hurt you."

Onnie turned quickly, expecting to see a familiar face, another member of _ Deredith's Memory_, but instead was met by the wildly intense face of a dark-skinned man with weathered skin and short gray bristles for a beard. His head was smoothly shaved, and devoid of any other texture save a long jagged scar that ran the length of the man's skull; from his left eyebrow to the nape of his neck. The man extended a hand to Onnie as, finally, some of the other members of the group emerged from their hiding places. Onnie noticed that the offered limb was partially robotic and both of the man's legs were encased in permanent cybernetic casts. Onnie Gozzel smiled weakly at the stranger as he accepted the man's "hand".

"It's your lucky day," said the bald man matter-of-factly. "We are the Jedi."


	3. Hunting Jedi

_Chapter 2: Hunting Jedi_

"We are pretty sure he's in there, Lord Vader."

The Dark Lord stepped slightly away from the trooper who addressed him, and stared, instead, at the small, leafy structure some thirty meters away. It was one of the larger landmasses on the planet upon which Darth Vader and his 501st Legion found themselves, but it still measured a mere thirty square kilometres around. Syboona was an oceanic planet, so the search for Vader's quarry had been relatively easy once he knew the correct planet. Vader and his troops were well concealed by the damp foliage that surrounded the quiet building, but the Sith suspected that the occupants of the structure already knew that they were there.

"I don't want guesses or hypotheses, commander. I want facts. I want to be sure."

The stormtrooper's impassive armour disguised the look of pure horror on his real face beneath.

"Yes, of course, Lord Vader, of course. I'll send out another scout to –"

"Never mind, commander. I know he's in there. I can feel it." If Vader could sound pleased, he sounded pleased now.

It had taken him some time to track down this particularly careful Jedi. Coleman Kcaj had served on the Jedi Council during the Clone Wars, and had in fact, been in the Jedi Temple when the Purge had begun, but the Ongree had escaped detection. Vader had made short work of most of the Jedi in the temple, but the fact that a few of them had escaped unmolested perturbed the Dark Lord. Coleman Kcaj was one of those Jedi, but his escape would mean little in a few moments. The Great Purge had finally come full circle for the Ongree.

"We know there are nineteen sentient beings in there, but how will we know which one he is?"

"He'll be the one that kills the largest number of you before I can get to him," Vader said without regret. He motioned with his hand at the well-concealed stormtroopers around him and the commander. "If you and you're men do this correctly, the casualties may not be too high."

Again, the commander felt a chill of fear run up his spine, but he nodded curtly to Vader.

"We'll flush them out quickly and efficiently, sir."

"For your own sake, I hope you do." The comment was neither reassuring nor meant to be.

Another nod, and the commander left to order his men to be at the ready.

Vader thought back to the transmission he had received from Imperial Center concerning his former comrade on the Jedi Council, Coleman Kcaj. Vader had been on Toprawa where he had been involved in some tense "negotiations" with the scientists developing the super laser for the Emperor's Death Star project. The scientists insisted that they needed more funds and additional workers to complete the weapon, while it was the Emperor's, and thus Vader's, opinion that the Toprawan workers were thieves who were more content to steal what they could from the Empire rather then profit from her greatness and generosity. Vader had added that it wasn't "more" workers the developers needed, but rather "better" workers. Soon after Vader had made his point, his commanding officer interrupted the meeting with news that the Emperor himself wanted to speak directly to Vader as soon as possible. What the Emperor had really wanted, Vader had sensed, was an immediate audience. Minutes later, in the presence of Palpatine's ghostly holo-image, Vader learned that a Force sensitive being fitting the description of the lost Ongree Jedi Master had been seen on the Outer Rim planet of Syboona. No real surprise given that the Ongree were amphibious, and Syboona was largely an aquatic paradise. Vader cut the scheduled Toprawan business short with the threat of violence to the lead scientist, and left with his troopers for the nearby planet.

"We're all ready, sir."

The commander had come upon Vader silently, but not undetected. Vader droned, "Proceed."

The commanding soldier lifted his arm in to the air, and then let it drop quickly. As he did, troopers from behind and from the sides of the muddy structure fired salvos of rockets into the building's flimsy walls. The mud-reinforced walls somehow withstood the pounding, but the occupants inside rushed out from the darkened opening like a swarm of fire wasps.

These fire wasps, like the real insect, were not altogether unprepared to fight. They came out of the hut bearing arms of their own. Most of the beings gathered were aquatic species: Mon Calamari, Nautolan, an Aqualish, and, of course, an Ongree. All of them carried blasters of various potency, save the Jedi Master who still possessed his blue lightsaber, and most were hitting their targets well. Several of the men standing next to Vader, including the clone commander himself, fell seconds into the skirmish. Vader's troops on the opposite side of the shelter quickly realized that the enemy was making a run for it by charging their forward line, and quickly compensated by sweeping back to their original positions and around the slumping edifice. Vader measured his actions carefully as he stepped to his right to avoid an errant blast from an oncoming Nautolan who reminded him of Kit Fisto. Vader's lightsaber hissed to life, and Fisto's kin was the first of the attacking force's opponents to fall.

Vader then steadily cut a path through the ranks of humanoids remaining. He moved with astonishing speed for such a large man cutting and hacking his way to the one humanoid he had actually come to face: Coleman Kcaj. Master Kcaj was doing a considerable amount of damage to Vader's forces himself. The Ongree had always been a quiet person, but it did not mean he couldn't use a blade. The Jedi Master's flexible eyestalks allowed him to see more angles than humanly possible. Kcaj used his advantage to its fullest extent, cleaving through troopers both in front and behind him. He stopped only when the sea of white armor before him parted, and Vader stepped forward.

"Master Kcaj, your fellow conspirators are my prisoners, and my blade awaits your surrender, willingly or not." Kcaj's eyestalks moved to better see the last of his allies being shuffled into a small, generator-run ray shield. Only a handful was still alive.

The Jedi spoke in broken Basic. "You cannot. I fight to end." Kcaj's voice amused some of the nearby troopers who, guns trained firmly on the alien's chest, had never heard the high-pitched chirps of an Ongree. It was equally strange that the creature's mouth was located above both the eyes and the nostrils of the exotic being.

"Then I shall make yet another Jedi's words come true."

Darth Vader took a carefully planned stance against the Jedi Master before plunging his scarlet blade into his prey's direction. The Ongree expertly blocked it. Vader then faked a thrust to the left, only to then have to block an equally fast slice from Kcaj's lightsaber from the right. Vader resumed his attack with two fast jabs of his own.

"You slow. Not as fearsome as believed," cooed Coleman Kcaj as he danced to his left. He flexed one of his thick three-fingered hands in an almost taunting gesture to the Sith Lord.

"I've killed better Jedi than you."

The list was impressive. Vader had quickly become one of the galaxy's most infamous Jedi hunters ever, and he was determined to add Coleman Kcaj to it. He dug deep into the Force and his mastery of Djem So. Vader preferred limiting his opponent's speed by using the aggressive lightsaber combat style, and often, as he had this time, started his attack by employing the Shien opening stance and luring his enemy into a false sense of security. Vader's next three strikes were as aggressive as they were successful, culminating in the destruction of Coleman Kcaj's lightsaber. The Jedi Master stood helpless in the face of his own death.

"I watched your kinsmen, Pablo-Jill, die in a similar way. There was much fear in his eyes too," the Sith Lord lied. The truth was that Jedi Knight had met his end while fighting general Grievous aboard the _Invisible Hand _during the Battle of Coruscant. Few truly knew how the great Ongree pilot had met death, but if anyone did, it may very well have been Anakin Skywalker.

Coleman Kcaj pursed his thin lips, an unusual trait in the Ongree species, and charged at the cybernetic nightmare before him knowing full well it was a futile gesture, but knowing also he had few options. Vader's lightsaber hummed once more, and the Jedi Master's head fell at Vader's feet. Coleman Kcaj was dead.

Vader stared down at the headless corpse for a moment and thought back to countless number of lives he had extinguished in similar fashion. Count Dooku. Roan Shryne. Jocasta Nu. Jurokk. Serra Keto. Mace Windu. Windu didn't really fit into the same category as the others as it was not Vader's blade that had sent Windu hurtling through the Coruscanti sky, but rather an instrument that had facilitated his fall. Then of course, there was Obi-Wan Kenobi. He hadn't felt Vader's lightsaber at all. Someday, he felt, it would be Kenobi's body below him, and not Coleman Kcaj's corpse. The Sith Lord turned to face his troops. His voice, fuelled by the hatred welling up in him at the thought of his old master, boomed through the near silent patch of swamp.

"Kill the rest of them. They're all traitors to the Empire."

Amidst a cacophony of blaster fire, Vader felt a tickle of regret at not having been able to claim victory over the great Mace Windu or Obi-Wan Kenobi. Nonetheless, his mission here was complete, and the remaining Jedi, wherever they may be, weren't about to reappear to satisfy Vader's perverse pleasure in watching them die.


	4. Password

_Chapter 3: Password_

Onnie Gozzel held his breath for as long as humanly possible. He didn't dare breathe with the Bakuran soldier an infinitely short meter away. Onnie had held his position for almost 12 hours now, well before daybreak, and he couldn't risk losing all of that precious time and energy to a lazy soldier who could not be bothered to go the latrine, and instead was using Onnie's camouflage as his own personal toilet. The rising stench of warm urine reached Onnie nose, and tears came to his eyes as he focused on the task at hand.

What would Mace Windu or Makkan Libb do?

It had been three months since the self-professed Jedi had joined _Deredith's Memory._ And while a few others from the group weren't completely convinced the two were who they said they were, after all no Jedi had been seen in six years, the pair had provided the small group of dissidents with much-needed leadership and character. Mace, in particular, was stern with his new found pupils as he taught them the ways of the Force, although few in the group were very strong in it. The Jedi, however, brought an immeasurable power and authority to the group that had been sorely lacking in the months before his arrival. Even Implik saw it, and had turned over control of the group to the Jedi Master. In the short time Mace had been the recognised leader, _Deredith's Memory _had become a powerful thorn in the fractured Bakuran government's side. He had initiated an assault on the largest penal facility in Saris D'aar freeing only the political prisoners who would swear allegiance to him and the _Memory_. He had led an attack on a weapons factory, which helped procure for the group many of Bakura's most popular, and dangerous, hand held weapons. And now, _Deredith's Memory _was in the midst of its greatest coup.

Of course, that still didn't matter to the unsuspecting guard whose full relief came much later than Onnie Gozzel had hoped. Despite the burning itch too move, and thus reveal himself, Onnie stayed perfectly still, mindful of his breathing, while the guard zipped up his trousers, and moved away. When Onnie was sure the man couldn't hear him, he let out a quiet breath.

"That was close," muttered Onnie into the comlink tucked into his collar.

"You're doing great Onnie. We've made the appropriate adjustments to the plan, and we'll be back on schedule soon. Sit tight." The voice clearly belonged to Mace Windu. He continued. "Padawan Libb, your status?"

Another voice, Makkan's, added, "We are ready at point Beta, master."

"Good, my apprentice," Mace replied. "We go in two minutes."

Two minutes. Onnie Gozzel let his head drift up to look at the black starless, night which had settled over the planet. It was only the first night of the moonless season; a period of time when neither of Bakura's moons supplied any light to this side of the globe. The "season" lasted only four days, and occurred twice a year. Mace had been wise to chose this night for his incursion.

"One minute. Set your timers for countdown…now." Again Mace had issued the order.

Onnie chanced a peek over the hedge between him and his goal after setting his chronometer to countdown the last minute before the beginning of the operation. He wanted to make sure that the guard had returned to his booth, or he'd have to inform Mace of the problem, and await further instructions again from his leader.

The guard was slumped in his chair, and had resumed reading a copy of one of the daily newspapers he'd probably stolen from home before coming to his shift some seven hours ago. _Deredith's Memory _had kept tabs on the military service hangar for the last week and a half now, and Onnie knew that the guard would typically have another hour before the end of his shift. Tonight was going to be different. His shift was going to get a whole lot longer in...

"Ten seconds." Mace spoke into the comlink for the last time. It had been determined that the "ten seconds" signal meant that everything was a 'Go'.

Onnie Gozzel took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and deliberately, then nodded to himself as the chronometer beeped once to indicate his time was up.

Onnie slipped from his hiding place in the bushes, and, under cover of the pitch-black night, made his way to the foot of the guard's booth by sliding over the damp grass like an inflated Bulano serpent . He dared not peek at the guard now, knowing that the other groups had already made their moves, and were relying on him to complete their jobs unmolested. Onnie carefully pulled a SIL-50 "Sleep Inducer" from his hip pocket. It was one of the group's prizes from last week's raid on the weapons depot. Even at its lowest setting, which is what Onnie had set it for prior to taking up residency in the bushes, the SIL-50 could immobilize a normal human being in less than three seconds. Onnie took a moment to focus his thoughts, like Mace Windu and Makkan Libb had taught him, crab-walked over to the booth's entrance, calmly stood up in the door's open frame, and fired once at the guard still enthralled with the Bakuran daily. The man never even had a chance to look surprised before tumbling off his chair, and smashing his skull off the booth's duracrete floor.

Onnie winced at the sound of flesh striking the hard surface, but recovered quickly enough to complete the second part of his job.

He strode over to the now unguarded panel, and mentally toggled though the switches he needed to know when the time came. He looked at his chronometer and sighed. His compatriots and the Jedi were most likely just making their next checkpoints.

Onnie took a second to let out another slow, deliberate breath; one he'd been holding since he knocked out the hapless guard. Another twenty seconds rolled by before a bulb on the far side of his control panel came to life and flashed on and off.. Milliseconds later, a second bulb flickered on too. Onnie smiled. He knew that his allies were where they should be, and the next phase of his mission could now commence.

He quickly undressed the stunned guard. It had been no coincidence that Onnie and the guard had similar body types and weight. Under Mace's tutelage, _Deredith's Memory _had become quite adept at noticing the subtleties of terrorism. Onnie had been chosen because he has the one member of the group who most resembled the guard _Deredith's Memory_ had known would be working during the moonless season.

Fully clothed in the security guard's dress, Onnie placed the call he knew he must make.

"Base security here requesting an immediate EVS team at service hangar 12. Out"

A tired voice crackled to life over the booth's message receiver and asked, "What have you got out there now? Two days ago it was nothing. You sure?"

Two days ago had been nothing…sort of. Mace and Makkan had seen to that. Using the Force, they had hurled rocks at the two electronic scanners located on opposite sides of the hangar from safe enough distances as to not get caught. They studied the reaction times and plans of the response teams as the real guard reported the two flashing lights on his control panel. It was with this knowledge, that Master Windu's plan of attack had been finalized.

"I'm not sure of anything, but I know what I am supposed to do when I see flashing lights. You see them too, don't you?"

A pregnant pause, then the reluctant answer. "Yeah, we see them too"

Mace had been right about the back-up indicators housed in the response team's base one kilometre away to the west.

"Give us a minute."

Onnie acknowledged the tired sentinel's last words.

Mace, and a former employee of the Bakuran military who'd been released prematurely from prison thanks to the Jedi, had explained earlier that the whole operation had a fail-safe system. The guard at the front entrance could hit the "Full alarm" button at any point and bring a full battalion of troops running without question, or, if the perimeter's electronic sensors picked up anything, he could radio them to send a small EVS (Entrance & Visual Surveillance) team who could enter the facility with their knowledge of the ever-changing access code and check things out. Mace and his Bakuran accomplice, Vull, didn't have the password to get through the hangar's force field. Neither did the entrance guard who now lay unconscious on the floor besides Onnie, but the EVS team on its way did.

They would soon become the unwittingly necessary participants in _Deredtih's Memory's _greatest achievement yet.

Another thirty seconds passed before Onnie could see the lights of an oncoming landspeeder. He realized with the actual appearance of more guards that he had yet to stow the "real" guard's inert body into the small closet located in the back of the booth. He ripped the door of the cabinet open, and shoved the sleeping man in as quickly as possible. It was a tight squeeze, but the door clicked shut as the landspeeder came to a stop outside of Onnie's cubicle.

"You O.K.?"

Onnie spun around to meet the guard who had addressed him. He combed a hand through his sandy blond hair.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I just was looking for a coat. Getting chilly out here. You know. No moons and all. Probably just my mind playing tricks on me."

The green-clad EVS man nodded. Onnie noticed a scar over the man's right eye and wondered if he'd have any more scars before the end of the night.

The EVS man checked a gauge or two, then tapped the flashing bulbs. Onnie nonchalantly gazed out past him, and saw that there were four other men in the landspeeder. All of them looked angry and tough. The bulky weapons they had shouldered looked prime to take out an entire building block. Onnie succeeded in not appearing visibly shaken by their obviously serious and threatening demeanour.

"Do you mind?"

Onnie looked again at the man in the booth with him, and realized that he wanted to enter the secret code into the anxiously waiting computer. He had prepped it for the latest codeword, but needed Onnie to step outside as was dictated by protocol.

"No problem," yawned Onnie as he rubbed the side of his face.

It took the EVS man another ten seconds to shut down the building's force field and erase the password from the computer's screen.

"We'll be back in a couple minutes," offered the guard gruffly as he pushed past Onnie and back into the passenger seat of the idling landspeeder. Onnie waved as they zipped unimpeded into the hangar's normally well-protected surroundings. A third, deep and deliberate breath slipped from Onnie Gozzel's mouth.

Now all he had to do was wait for the EVS team's signal that all was not right, and ignore it completely.


	5. Building a Fleet

_Chapter 4: Building a Fleet_

Mace Windu hesitated as he rose from the dark bushes to follow the five men who had just entered the Bakuran service hangar's entrance. The small band of guards had done exactly what was expected of them, albeit, on this night, the wrong thing to do. They had shut down the shield surrounding the hangar to enter the building in their effort to find intruders. Instead, they were inviting the intruders in.

This moment marked Mace Windu's first real action since that night in the Chancellor's office. He had wielded a lightsaber since then, though not his violet hued blade and mainly as part of Makkan Libb's training, but this was truly the first time he expected to use it with the intent to kill or maim another being in almost six years. Even the small rebel group he commanded, _Deredith's Memory_, had pulled off some recent operations without his physical involvement. He had let Makkan lead in those other instances, but no longer.

So why the hesitation?

His cybernetic limbs allowed him the same movement and dexterity of a normal human, although that had taken him considerable time and practice to perfect. His plan had gone, thus far, as well as possible save a small change in schedule because of the gate guard's full bladder.

So what was it?

"Mace?"

The Jedi turned, and stared into the wide eyes of Implik Gulliston, former leader of _Deredith's Memory _and implicit follower of the new leader, Mace Windu. The wide eyes betrayed Implik's thought that Mace's plan was falling apart.

The bristle bearded Jedi found the words he needed to say. "Move, move, move. We can't stay here. Let's go before they seal off the hangar again. Go!"

His voice conveyed such urgency that Implik and the four other people behind him, two women and two men, jumped in fright. They recovered quickly and stormed up the slight incline between them and their goal.

Service hangar twelve.

Mace stood still for a moment, letting his companions race ahead of him into the now-open hangar, before realizing that this may very well be the beginning of a new page in Bakuran history.

"So be it", he muttered to the night.

Bakura had not been his first choice of refuge. Instead, Mace, once he had recovered enough from his wounds suffered at the hands of the Chancellor, now Emperor, and Anakin Skywalker, had wanted originally to return "home" to Haruun Kal. It was his apprentice, Makkan Libb, the boy who had found him near death in a dirty alleyway of Coruscant's dark core, who had informed him of Haruun Kal's fate shortly after the Jedi Purge.

"Many of the Empire's ships were sent to this planet of yours Master Windu. The Emperor claims that the…" Makkan had struggled with the pronunciation of the word, "Korunanni?" Windu had corrected the teen, and let him continue his story. "Yes, the Korunnai. It was the Korunnai that the Emperor claimed were in league with the Jedi. It was on the holonet. He sent several thousand stormtroopers and Lord Vader to eliminate them. All of them."

It had been like a physical blow to Mace, a strong, Force-sensitive Korunnai himself, as Makkan's words penetrated his soul. He had doubled over, as best as he could with his injuries, in disgust.

"Gone. All gone."

"Yes master, I'm afraid so. It was well publicized on the holonet. I saw it myself while I worked for Dex Jettster."

It had been primarily Makkan's responsibility to forage for money, food, and information for the two outcasts because Mace feared his notoriety as a Jedi would have put both he and Makkan in danger if discovered on Coruscant. At that moment, none of that seemed to matter.

Mace had panicked a bit then, not for his own safety or security, but for Makkan's. He saw Makkan as the next, if not last generation, of Jedi. Of course, Mace Windu didn't truly know how many, if any, of his Jedi colleagues were still alive. Makkan was all he had. "Where can we go? The Empire's forces are growing so quickly that they're sure to find us sooner or later."

Makkan Libb had tossed his shaggy, black hair out of his eyes. "I mentioned our situation to Dex, and he suggested the outer rim planet of Bakura."

"Why Bakura?" Mace Windu had never been there before, but had heard of the place.

Makkan had shrugged, then had said, "Dex says the planet is pretty far out there, and sparsely populated. It sounds like the perfect place for people on the run, and the Empire doesn't control it. I doubt anyone will recognise you there. Plus, he says that they are masters of organ replacement. I thought, well, in your current position…"

Mace Windu had looked down at his severely bandaged right arm, and equally wrapped legs. He had regained some mobility by salvaging an old pre-Clone Wars era wheelchair, but was still terribly impaired by the damage both the battle and subsequent fall had done to him.

"I don't need new organs," had wheezed the Jedi Master. "I need to get off this planet." Mace had noticed Makkan wince at his severe tone, and had carefully softened his next words "I suppose, though, Bakura is just as good as any other place. So when do we leave?"

And now he was here.

Leading a group of rebels into danger.

Being a Jedi.

Mace Windu realized that his hesitation was born, not of fear, but of excitement. He had missed the thrill of pursuing an almost impossible goal, a feat he had accomplished several times before the incident with Palpatine and Skywalker, and the equally satisfying knowledge of having defied the odds. Mace Windu felt alive again.

With a roar that would have made a Wookie proud, the Jedi rushed into the hangar with the other members of _Deredith's Memory_. Despite their ten-second head start, Windu was the first to breach the entrance of the hangar.

The five-man Bakuran force that had come to see if the hangar had been broken into was composed of professional soldiers, and Windu's attack, while surprising, was not altogether demoralizing to the group. They quickly found cover, behind crates, old fuselages, and odd parts, and opened fire on the advancing group. None of them had their weapons set to stun.

Mace Windu led his people straight into the defending force's line of fire, but ably deflected all but one of their initial shots. The lone ray zipped harmlessly out into the night. Despite having artificial leg supports, the Jedi stayed ahead of his assault team, and consistently bent the opposing force's beams into other directions. His strength came from experience and confidence. But Mace Windu was no sadistic killer, and he offered the defence a truce as he ran at them.

"Drop your weapons and you will be spared. We just want the ships."

The ships Windu wanted were far-from-new, but only slightly scarred Bakuran Buzzards. The Buzzard was a heavy vessel modelled after the Belbullab-22 starfighter used by the Confederacy of Independent Systems during the Clone Wars, and named after a common, if not despised, Bakuran avian species. Unlike the Belbullab-22, the Buzzard was equipped with two single laser cannons instead of triple laser cannons. It also featured a shorter, squatter body; a more condensed V-wing design than the Belbullab. It was, however heavily shielded and hyperdrive capable, although Windu had already guessed that theses particular ships weren't hyperdrive ready. Regardless, the Buzzard offered the Jedi and his crew a new angle of attack against the corrupt government sitting in the Bakuran senate.

As Windu neared the five men offering resistance to _Deredith's Memory's _unfolding plan, he realized that they had still not heeded his command. The Jedi master swept his left hand across his chest and Force pushed the nearest defender, a man with a scar above his right eye, into another's carefully aimed blast. The violent, and seemingly accidental death of one of their own, visibly shook the four remaining men, but they continued to pour blaster bolts into the advancing crowd. The four visibly slumped again as a second front opened up to their extreme left as Makkan Libb and his group approached from an adjacent door. The appearance of another warrior with a lightsaber made them reconsider Mace's earlier offer. The men defending service hangar twelve silenced their weapons. Their lives, they had finally understood, were not worth all of the starships on the planet, let alone the twelve within the hangar's confines.

"A wise decision," tendered Mace Windu as he lifted the blasters with the wave of his palm from the hands of the surrendering group. "You four will live to see tomorrow."

Windu nodded sharply to his apprentice, and Makkan Libb pulled three pairs of rusty durasteel manacles from a pack on his back.

The dark young man politely gestured to the prisoners. "Over here, gentlemen. Make yourselves comfortable." Makkan sat the four remaining defenders down around on old hyperdrive generator from a large luxury yacht that easily weighed over seven hundred kilograms. Using two pairs of manacles for the four captured guards, Makkan secured the men to the heavy, makeshift anchor without another word. As the Jedi apprentice worked, Mace Windu called together the rest of his assault force.

"You were all selected for this mission because you all have experience in the cockpit of a starfighter. The Buzzards here are very similar to the Delta-6 starfighter the Jedi employed during the invasion of Naboo." Windu had taught recent galactic history to the group, so the reference to Naboo was not unfamiliar to the members of _Deredith's Memory. _" Once inside these vessels, you will be on your own until you get to the first rendezvous point. Makkan and I will fly towards Saris D'aar to distract any fighters the government can scramble in the event that we've been identified. We will meet up with you again tomorrow at the second rendezvous at ten hundred hours standard Bakuran time. Understood." Most of the men and women around the Jedi nodded.

Makkan Libb spoke up. His voice was neither disrespectful nor insolent. "What about our friend in the guard booth?"

Mace Windu smiled. "He is already on his way back to camp. His job is done. Any more questions?"

The silence felt heavy, and full of tension to the well-trained Jedi.

Windu continued. "We've planned for this for some time now, my friends. Don't let the fear of the unknown cloud your judgement or resolve. We are _Deredith's Memory_. What we have done here today will change the landscape of Bakuran life. What we have done here today will free the oppressed of Bakura, and send this planet into the stratosphere of the Outer Rim elite. This planet will be great, and united, again."

A cheer rose up from the passionate crowd gathered around the former member of the Jedi Council. Gracious nods and backslapping followed. The people under Windu's command started towards their selected starships.

Oh, and by the way - " Windu called to the departing crowd, catching their attention just long enough to add, " – may the Force be with you."

It had certainly been some time since Mace Windu, Jedi master, had said those words.


	6. Around the Fire

_Chapter 5: Around the Fire_

Onnie Gozzel stared into the flickering lashes of a dying fire as he thought about the incredible events of the last week. _Deredith's Memory _had succeeded in "appropriating" eleven Bakuran Buzzards; heavy starfighters regularly used by the Bakuran military. The plan had been to obtain all twelve Buzzards that lay in service Hangar twelve on the outskirts of Saris D'aar, but one of the craft had had significant damage to its engines. Mace Windu, _Deredith's Memory's _current leader, and Jedi Master, had told the others that eleven was a lucky number, and that it would be an adequate haul for the time. A second, similar raid had resulted in procuring seven more of the starfighters, and Windu had responded by saying that eighteen fighters, two groups of nine, would fit in nicely with his future plans. Onnie could not help but wonder what those plans were, and if he would get to play as big a role as he had in the first eleven Buzzards' acquisition. He smiled to himself as the thought of the recent fortune the group had had since Mace Windu and his apprentice, Makkan Libb, had joined the cause.

A cause that had cost Onnie the life of one of his dearest friends, Yalta Malpayson. Suddenly he imagined he could see Yalta's face in the glowing embers at his feet. A face contorted by blaster fire ripping through his body.

The image of Yalta's twisted expression as he took in his last breath still haunted Onnie. The two men had been arguing when Yalta died at the hands of a small group of Bakuran militia, and Onnie had never gotten the chance to explain to his friend that he'd been wrong. _Deredith's Memory _had become everything that Yalta had foreseen, and Onnie suddenly felt quite guilty for those last words he'd said to his friend.

"Something wrong, Mr. Gozzel?"

The soft voice rattled Onnie, and he momentarily lost his train of thought. He turned his head to see who had spoken but no one was nearby. Onnie squinted into the darkness on the edge of the fire's light, and could just make out the form of a slender man coming towards him. Onnie rose quickly and simultaneously reached for his sidearm and commlink to relay the alarm. His embarrassment deepened as he realized who his visitor was.

"Makkan, what are you doing here?"

The dark-skinned young Jedi said nothing. Instead, he settled down next to Onnie, then pulled a light blanket from, seemingly, out of nowhere. The lean, but muscular man carefully wrapped the fabric around his legs. He stretched his arms over his head, and yawned once. Apparently Makkan was going to be here for awhile so Onnie sat down next to him, still somewhat out of sorts for the scare he'd given him

"I'm sorry I startled you, but I thought maybe you had dozed off," he finally said.

Dozed off indeed, thought Onnie. He had been assigned sentry duty on the cliff overlooking _Deredith's Memory's _camp before, and he had never dozed off. He enjoyed the view the hill allowed him if he had the luck of being there before darkness fell: a sweeping vista of a wide plain surrounded by lush forests through which the West River snaked its way. Even at night, Bakura's moons often illuminated the valley below, and Onnie, a native to the planet, felt at home more now than he had ever in the confines of Gesco City and the minute apartment he had left behind. The camp itself lay behind him some 100 meters in a slight depression in the planet's crust. The dip in the earth was actually a good kilometre in diameter, and was protected by an equally wide ledge hanging over the eastern-most edge of the depression. Windu had chosen the spot because of its proximity to water, its easily patrolled borders, and the ease with which it was to hide eighteen starfighters under the solid ledge and leafy trees growing out over it.

"I wasn't sleeping, I was…" Onnie's voice trailed off as he again thought about the death of his friend, Yalta.

"Someone close to you?" whispered the young man to Onnie's right. "Was it the man who died the day we came to your camp?"

Onnie nodded, unable to say Yalta's name aloud.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," offered Onnie. "You and Mace saved us that day. We'd _all_ be dead or in prison if it hadn't been for you two."

Makkan nodded thoughtfully as he picked up a thick branch from off the ground to his right and carefully placed it into the fire before him. The weight change toppled what wood had burned to ash, and the fire seemed to dim before gradually coming back to life.

The two men sat in stony silence for several minutes.

"What were you guys doing in that part of the woods that day?"

Makkan Libb acted at first as if he had not heard Onnie's question. He simply continued to stare into the glowing light of the flame. Then, he faced Onnie, and spoke quietly as if he feared saying the words too loudly.

"We were coming to help you."

Onnie's eyebrows folded up into his forehead, his eyes becoming slits. "Really. Us. You were coming to help us. I don't believe you."

Makkan shook his head gently, and said, "Not 'us'. You."

Onnie recoiled a bit at the implication of what Makkan had just uttered.

"Me. Why me. How did you -"

"Master Windu had a vision of a man in danger. An innocent man. You. He said that you were the kind of person worth saving, the kind of person a Jedi was meant to protect."

All of this was news to Onnie. "But, I don't have any Force. I'm not a Jedi."

Makkan shrugged. "The Force surrounds us, it flows through us like blood. It is present in everything including you, Mr. Gozzel. Besides, just because you aren't Force sensitive doesn't mean you are unimportant to the future. We all have a destiny to fulfill. Yours, while still unknown, is important to the future of Bakura."

Onnie was amazed and shocked by what Makkan was saying. He could feel his hands trembling a bit under cover of his sweater "There must be some mistake. How…how do you know this?"

"I don't. Master Windu does. He told me about you on our way to your camp. I really don't know much more than what I've told you."

Onnie believed the Jedi, and leaned forward onto his knees burying his head between his legs. He took several deep breaths before finally lifting his head back up. He looked over at Makkan again, and the young Jedi had already resumed his deep gaze into the fire. A crooked smile spilled across his face.

"This isn't funny, Makkan. This is serious. I'm not a Jedi. I'm not even a soldier. I'm just a lost artist who doesn't agree with some of the things my government is doing right now, and I'm caught up in this, and I don't know what I'm doing."

Makkan didn't turn his head this time, but calmly continued to look into the fire before speaking. "You just reminded me of…well… me when Master Windu told me that I could become a Jedi, that I could control the Force. I was just an orphan, a starving orphan, on the streets of Coruscant. I had nothing until I found him. He has taught me everything I know." Makkan Libb finally turned to face Onnie. "If he says you're important to the future of this planet, than my guess is you're important to the future of this planet."

Onnie finally smiled. It barely registered on his face, but the thin crescent of his lips trembled a bit at the odd thought that maybe he was important to the planet. Who knew? Suddenly, he wanted to know more about Mace Windu.

"How did you and Master Windu come to Bakura?"

"It wasn't easy. We spent weeks looking for just the right person to get us off Coruscant. It had to be someone discreet, and willing to transport two strangers without a lot of questions. A friend of the Jedi, a Besalisk, who had gone underground after the Empire's stormtroopers destroyed his place of business, knew of a Corellian merchant who fit the bill perfectly. Eight days later, we were on our way here."

"But why here?" Onnie winced inwardly as he felt he sounded too much like an inquisitive child with too many questions.

"Bakura offered us plenty of room between us and the Empire and her Jedi hunters. Vader in particular."

Even on Bakura, the name of Darth Vader was all too well-known. Onnie shuddered involuntarily at the mention of the Sith Lord's name, but he remained silent and allowed Makkan Libb to continue his tale.

"We've been here for almost four and a half years now, living off the land, and training. At least, I've been training. Master Windu has been recuperating."

"You mean his legs and his hand, don't you?"

Makkan nodded slowly. "Yes. He told me that Vader and the Emperor had tried to kill him at the beginning of the Jedi Purge, and as far as they know, he's long dead. But, of course, he isn't. He's maintained that he isn't interested in revenge, but rather wants to rebuild the Jedi forces. He said I'm the first of what he calls the Jedi Continuity." Makkan suddenly went quiet.

"But?"

"We haven't found many here who are Force sensitive. I fear most people who realize they have the Force are too afraid to come forward and admit it openly. Vader and his troopers have meticulously exterminated any who have. Master Windu hasn't given up hope yet, but I fear the Empire will discover that his 'death' is but fiction, and they'll hunt him down as quickly as possible."

"Why?" Onnie winced again. It seemed he'd become monosyllabic within the last few minutes. He really felt like a child now despite being at least fifteen years older than the young Jedi.

Makkan smiled weakly. "Master Windu was on the Jedi Council; the acknowledged second-in-command to Master Yoda. As far as I know, or he knows for that matter, he's the last surviving member of the Council. Except the traitor, Skywalker. Master Windu rarely acknowledges that Skywalker was ever a Council member though. He said it was part of the Emperor's treachery, and doesn't really count."

Onnie whistled softly. "Master Windu was on the Jedi Council. That's impressive. He must be very powerful. I can see why the Empire would want him to stay dead." Finally, Onnie thought, a coherent and intelligent sentence or two; until he looked into Makkan Libb's wide eyes.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Master Windu does not fear death." Makkan paused as he realized how defensive he had sounded. "I mean, he's already died once, how bad can it be the second time around?"

Both men, warmed by the growing fire's heat and the broken tension, chuckled aloud, then fell silent again for several minutes. They both stared into the flames, content to let their own thoughts continue the conversation they'd just had.

"Oh, I almost forgot," piped up Makkan. "I came up here to give you this." He reached into his vest pocket and extracted a neatly folded piece of paper. "Master Windu said he found it locked away in a safe in the last hangar we hit. Apparently the Bakuran military uses some of their older stations to house some unexpected…prizes. He said you'd know what it was."

Onnie Gozzel extended his hand from out of his own pocket, and accepted the paper from the Jedi. The paper was thick, not unlike the fibrous paper he'd used for painting. Suddenly, Onnie's heartbeat quickened and he opened the folded square to its full size.

_Bakuran Blood Plains._

The confiscated painting that had landed him in jail those many months ago, and had inadvertently placed him on a cliff above the Bakuran forest below him now. Onnie did his best to keep the welling tears from falling onto his face, but failed miserably.

"It seems Master Windu is a fan of your art, Mr. Gozzel."

Onnie meant to say something, but the words never made it to the warm air of the Bakuran evening. Before Onnie's voice returned, Makkan Libb had hopped up, and disappeared back into the veil of night from which he'd entered. Onnie, instead, carefully placed another branch on the fire, and folded his painting into the fifteen- centimetre square Makkan had had it in, and tucked it into his tunic. Safe.


	7. A New Course

_Chapter 6: A New Course _

Silence.

Vader always took note of it while ensconced in his private meditation chamber. He rarely had any other opportunities to enjoy the peace the chamber offered him, not that he minded the hustle of life as the Emperor's right hand. It had, after all, been the reason he had given up so much. The price, while heavy, had not been without its rewards. Vader enjoyed his unlimited wealth and power. There was nothing in the galaxy he couldn't have.

Save her.

The sudden memory of Padmé Amidala's tear-streaked face from the last time he'd seen her penetrated even the deepest regions of what was left of his soul. A short gasp escaped his thin lips, and the terribly scarred head of the Sith dropped a noticeable length.

Vader tied to shake off the sadness, anger and confusion he still felt for his lost love. It had been six years since Mustafar and the image he had of Padmé had diminished some, but never erased. His hatred had consumed much of his ability to accurately remember the time he had shared with her, and how much he had once treasured those precious moments. Vader took in a deep breath, as much as his ravaged lungs would allow, and exhaled slowly. His chamber allowed him limited time to breathe without the direct support of his mask and helmet, to meditate, and to heal his wounds suffered on Mustafar, and Vader was reluctant to waste that time thinking about things that meant nothing anymore.

Barely anything in this case. Or so he wished it to be…barely anything.

The silence enveloped him again, but other, equally depressing images from the past still seeped into his consciousness.

His mother. Watto. Qui-Gon Jinn. Jar-Jar Binks. Yoda.

And of course, Mace Windu and Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The two masters he would give anything to confront again. Vader always believed that things would be different if he was given the chance to best either of those two Jedi. Even though he could claim victory over Windu, it always bothered him that he, himself, had not personally ended the arrogant Jedi master's life. Vader acknowledged his heavy hand in Windu's death, but it still didn't mean to him what he felt it should have.

Again Vader tried desperately to clear his mind, to focus on the process of healing, and to be more powerful than anyone, including his master, in the galaxy.

It was not to be.

A light to Vader's left blinked incessantly while a high-pitched whine emanated from a speaker located just below it. Both fixtures were meant to alert Vader that someone was outside of his sphere trying to contact him whether he wanted them to or not. Vader navigated his chair into its original position, and waited impatiently while his mask and helmet slipped down from the chamber's ceiling and hiss-snapped into place. The healing sphere split open horizontally and the two sides separated steadily to reveal a tall, bespectacled man waiting nervously for the Sith Lord.

"What is it, Captain Vollik?" The malice in Vader's deep voice was evident even through the heavily mechanized breathing.

"My sincerest apologies, milord, but the Emperor has asked you contact him at your soonest convenience."

"Is it urgent?"

"The Emperor did not say, so I don't believe it is, milord."

"Why then did you disturb me with this relatively unimportant message. You should have logged it into the computer for my perusal at a later time."

"Again, my apologies, Lord Vader. I thought it best to deliver the Emperor's request to you in person."

"Why." It was too short a word to be said with such violence.

Captain Dannir Vollik hesitated. He'd been the commanding officer aboard the _Exactor_ for nearly two months now, but still had not fully come to learn Darth Vader's likes and dislikes; the dislikes vastly outnumbering the likes. One in command of such a vessel should have known better than to interrupt the Dark Lord during his personal time for what seemed like an inconsequential reason. Even if the alternative meant keeping the leader of the Empire waiting, Captain Vollik should have realized he'd have to deal with Vader directly for his indiscretion. His hesitation, however illustrated that he was finally catching on. Vollik did what any good officer would do in a similar situation. He lied, suspecting his superior would simply choose to ignore any necessary follow up to discover the truth.

"We are experiencing some difficulty with our onboard communications systems. We couldn't contact you from the bridge, but I have my men –" Darth Vader was not a 'similar situation'.

"You're lying, Captain Vollik."

Vollik shuddered involuntarily. Vader's icy words sounded so calm that Vollik suddenly wished he'd sent his executive officer in his place.

The trembling man managed to remove his glasses from atop his long nose before he felt the crushing grasp of the Force around his neck. He then somehow still managed to garble, "But, milord…"

If Vader was smiling, his dark mask never showed it. Vollik collapsed, and Vader edged his body to a corner of the sterile room without barely moving his hand. Then, as if nothing had happened since he'd emerged from his meditation, the Dark Lord of the Sith walked over to hologram projection pad where Captain Vollik had fallen, and knelt down on one knee. The seemingly innocuous action triggered the projector's operating system. Almost instantly, the larger-than-life image of Emperor Palpatine's head filled Vader's line of vision.

"What is thy bidding, my master?"

Emperor Palpatine offered no greeting as a courtesy to his apprentice; he hadn't in many years. Palpatine hadn't offered such greetings to anyone for that matter since becoming leader of the Galactic Empire. He was nothing if he was not direct and succinct. His orders rarely left any doubt.

"You will go to the Bakura system in the Outer Rim. It seems the local government on the primary planet there is experiencing some difficulties with an insignificant band of rebels. They asked for our assistance in dealing with the matter."

Vader did not usually question his master about his assigned missions, but there was something tugging at his Force complimented instincts that demanded more of the Emperor.

"They so insignificant, yet the Bakurans can't deal with these rebels themselves. I sense there is more to this than meets the eye."

"Your skills of perception continue to grow, Lord Vader. Your instincts are correct in this case. The Bakuran officials claimed that some of these attacks were led by men with lightsabers."

"Jedi?" Vader was genuinely surprised. "What would the Jedi want on Bakura?"

"That is irrelevant. The fact there may be Jedi there should be enough incentive for you to go, should it not? Or have you lost your appetite for Jedi corpses?"

It had been three months since Vader had killed Coleman Kcaj on Syboona, and his appetite had rarely been stronger. The Sith Lord considered that the opportunity to hunt the Force-wielding peacekeepers was decreasing as rapidly as the number of survivors of the Jedi Purge. Still there was something nagging at Vader's inner voice that this situation was not at all what it seemed.

"Of course not, but there is something too…familiar about this. I know I've felt this tremble in the Force before, but I can't place it."

"Trust those feelings, Lord Vader, as they will guide you to the Outer Rim. I'll expect you to leave immediately." And with that, the conversation appeared at an end.

"Yes, my master."

The Emperor's ruined face flashed out of existence as Vader strode over to the communication panel to his left. As he keyed in the bridge, he remembered that captain Vollik was no longer in command of the _Exactor_, and instead asked to speak to the executive officer, soon to be captain, Egsh Arlon.

"Commander Arlon, I want this ship set on a direct course to Bakura."

"Bakura, milord. Yes, right away." There was a short static hiss as Commander Arlon kept the line open, but spoke discretely to someone else on the bridge. He readdressed Vader a few seconds later. "At our present position, our new course will add an extra four days to our voyage, milord. Shall I send word to the IGBC on Muunilinst that we will not be arriving as scheduled?"

"Yes, Commander Arlon." Like his master, Vader rarely voiced compliments.

"Will there be anything else, Lord Vader?"

Vader already liked Arlon's apparent initiative to please his superior, and quickly informed the man of his promotion as Vollik's successor. "Yes, commander, there is. Captain Vollik has been relieved of his duties. See to it that your reign as captain of this ship lasts exponentially longer than his own."

Vader could almost hear Egsh Arlon shiver as he reported, "I most assuredly will, milord."

Darth Vader supplied the _Exactor's _new captain with no words of encouragement save one simple, whispered statement: "We'll see." His transmission ended with the familiar buzz of a properly functioning onboard communication system. He reached out with the Force to sense the ship's new heading before returning to his meditation chamber and the guarantee of silence it proposed to him.


	8. The Plan

_Chapter 7: The Plan_

Mace Windu held up his hand in an effort to quell the growing noise from the crowd gathered around him. He refused to raise his voice this early in the discussion, but was considering doing just so until another voice, not his own, did the job.

"Wait. Wait. Wait just a minute. Master Windu has not steered us in the wrong direction yet. What makes you think he is going to do it now? I think we should hear him out." Onnie Gozzel had spoken with an authority he did not usually display to the other members of _Deredith's Memory_.

Mace seized the opportunity to further his cause. "Thank you, Onnie. I appreciate your support. Now, if you'll all just give me a moment, I can explain what we need to do. We've obtained very recent passcodes to the OCC. Using fake transponder signals on our Buzzards, and the passcodes, we can completely bypass the OCC's forward defences. Half of our ships can dock, access the relatively unguarded command room, and take control with as little violence as possible. The remaining ships can keep a vigilant watch on any other incoming craft while the group inside sets about rewiring the planet's communication system. We can broadcast some of our own propaganda for once."

"Master Windu, you forget, we are not Jedi. Stealing ships from some vastly ignored service hangars and an out of the way weapons depot is one thing. Taking control of the OCC is another. I mean to say it is 'relatively unguarded' is stretching it. Do you really know how well protected that place is? We'd never get in there."

Implik Gulliston, former head of the dissident group, spoke the truth. The Orbital Communications Centre, a government-owned site that managed and supervised Bakura's holonet and radio frequencies, was a well-defended station with a dedicated band of trained guards and technicians. Since becoming functional, the powers that be had also added an energy shield that denied any uninvited guests passage to within a half kilometre of the station and several compact ion cannons, powerful enough to disrupt a fighter, encircling the spherical structure. Not to mention that the site was floating in orbit over Bakura's capital, the OCC sported a small squadron, twelve at least, of brand newMankvim-814 light interceptors. The Mankvim-814's, recently retrieved from a hidden base on Bakura-5, were lighter and more manoeuvrable than the Buzzards _Deredith's Memory _had obtained in recent raids, and the pilots were better trained. Simply stated, Mankvim-814's were designed to target, hunt down, and destroy other starcraft. And it was because of that reason why Mace Windu's legion felt his suggestion of a successful assault on the station would develop into a bloody massacre.

"Master Windu, I mean no disrespect, but Onnie is correct, you haven't failed us, _yet. _This just seems like too big a bite out of the government's hide. We're talking suicide here."

Mace Windu quietly contemplated Implik's words. As he did, he saw many people huddled around Implik nodding in agreement with what the native Bakuran had said. He shifted his gaze to his left where he caught sight of a small four legged rodent scamper up a nearby, darkened tree. The lot of men and women below the deciduous seemed distant, and they were all frowning. He focussed on one of them, an athletic woman, Rayna Tocklebee, who had joined _Deredith's Memory_ after she'd been freed from prison in one of the group's earliest strikes. She had already proven herself to be an impressive guerrilla having actively participated in all of the assaults since her release.

"Have you something to add, Rayna?" Windu had probed as many minds as he possibly could while scanning the faces before, and felt confidant Rayna was on his side.

She didn't disappoint.

The woman's light blue eyes flashed fire as she confidently walked over to where Mace Windu was standing. She addressed the crowd in an authoritative, yet calm voice, her arms folded across her chest.

"I think we should do what Master Windu says. If we are content to rest on our past laurels, and nothing has changed in the Senate, then what have we accomplished." She waited a second for the rebuttal that did not come. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I know you're scared. I am too. But, I've spent time in their prisons, and I've witnessed some of the back-alley deals that persuade the politicians to do what is right for them as their pockets fill with credits. It has to end, sooner than later. And we are this close," she made a pincer-like gesture with her thumb and forefinger, separating the two digits by a centimetre, "from making it happen."

Onnie Gozzel, who clearly had been in support of Windu's plan to begin with, added his voice to Rayna's plea. "We've lost people before, and for what? I watched my best friend die while we were standing in the one place we though we were the safest. And for what? He didn't die making a difference. He didn't die defending what he believed in. He died waiting for something to happen. He shouldn't have died like that at all. At all." Salty tears rimmed Onnie's eyes. They always seemed to appear when he thought of his late friend, Yalta Malpayson.

Mace Windu felt a change in the crowd's attitude as Onnie's words echoed through the evening's damp air. Even Implik, he felt, was slowly coming around to see that the Jedi Master's plan for _Deredith's Memory's _future, although awash with danger, was inevitable if change was to be made. Windu's decision to let others speak for him now seemed like a very good persuasive tool, but he added his own bit of propaganda to the mix.

"Friends, I understand your fear. I have had to face fear many times in my life, and it doesn't diminish or fade away with every new mission you undertake. It grows. You begin to wonder if your luck will run out the next time you have a blaster pointed at your chest, or if the ship on your six has got you locked in. It doesn't matter. But what scares me the most is inaction. The fear that my inaction, my unwillingness to do _something_, is going to cause great pain to those I care about. That's enough to make me certain about what we must do next."

A murmur rippled through the assembly. Mace hoped no one in the crowd noticed how his voice broke slightly as he had said the word 'something'. It was with a pang of guilt that he remembered his own moments of inaction. At the very beginning of the Clone Wars, on Geonosis, he had had the chance to kill Count Dooku, to end the war before it began, and he had failed. How again, in the Chancellor's office, he hadn't seized the opportunity to slay the foul Lord of the Sith, Palpatine, and now…

The voice in his head trailed off, and he found himself staring at his prosthetic hand. A terrible anger rumbled in his soul.

"Master, are you alright? You don't look well." Makkan Libb, Windu's apprentice, had slipped next to his master unsensed.

"What…yes. Yes, I'm fine. I was just thinking about the consequences of our deeds." Windu's growing rage subsided, and took refuge in the cave from which it came.

"Master?"

"I'm fine Makkan, I'm fine." Mace Windu looked over at the throng of people before him, most of whom were now shaking hands and smiling, and wondered aloud, "I think our plan has some details that need working out."

His young apprentice agreed, but continued to eye his Master with some unfounded suspicion that he sensed did not bode well for the continued health of those gathered around him now. Makkan's maturing Jedi instincts were unable to figure out exactly what his master was truly feeling, and he let the thought drift from his mind into nothingness.


	9. Enter the Empire

_Chapter 8: Enter the Empire_

Darth Vader's cape swooshed vividly behind him as he marched towards Egsh Arlon, recently promoted captain of the Imperial Star Destroyer, _Exactor._ Vader had asked Arlon to summon him to the bridge when the _Exactor _came out of hyperspace near the planet Bakura. The captain had done what he had been ordered to do, and subsequently nothing wrong or out of the ordinary, but the mere sight of the imposing Dark Lord of the Sith made the pudgy man absently fidget with his neatly trimmed flame-red moustache.

"Captain Arlon, I expect we've arrived at Bakura." It was not a question.

Captain Arlon did his best impression of a man who was not intimidated by his superior.

"Yes, milord. We came out of hyperspace at a point just out of range of Bakuran planetary sensors. We are also partially concealed by one of the planet's moons. Our intelligence shows Bakura to have limited capabilities in how far they can detect space craft from the surface of the planet. I felt this was a safe distance that would allow you time to…" Arlon's voice trailed off. Vader had turned away from him in mid-sentence and was staring, if Vader could stare, out of the forward transparisteel viewport.

Arlon offered Vader a moment of uninterrupted thought before finally breaking the creeping silence invading the _Exactor's _bridge. "Milord, is there something wrong?"

Vader turned slightly to acknowledge Captain Arlon, but his raised hand and outstretched index finger also indicated that the captain should just keep his mouth shut while Vader continued to do whatever it was he was doing.

A strange buzz enveloped the room as Arlon scanned the faces of the bridge crew. Every one of them was staring at their captain and the black-clad monster to his right.

Suddenly, and loud enough to make Arlon jump, Vader snarled, "Captain, I want a squadron of the new TIE starfighters scrambled immediately."

"It will be done, milord." The captain scurried over to the nearest commlink to relay Vader's order to the crew in the main hangar.

"I also want a ship prepared for myself. I will be leading the assault."

"You're going to lead the squadron, milord?" A quizzical looked flirted with Arlon's deep blue eyes. "Our pilots are all very well trained, and can handle anything you put against them. I assure you that they do not need your capable assistance." Captain Arlon wished he could have taken the words back even before they were out of his mouth.

Vader wheeled about on the man. "Are you suggesting, Captain Arlon, that I can't handle a starfighter?"

The captain of the _Exactor _could only respond with a queer gurgling belch that made the Dark Lord shake his head.

"Perhaps my decision to make you commander of this ship was premature. Perhaps you'd be better suited to work in the engine room."

Arlon snapped to attention, returned again to the nearby commlink, and quickly relayed Vader's latest request to the men in the ship's hangar.

Vader left the bridge with as much speed as he had entered it, but with a much more deadly purpose in mind.

XXXXX

As Darth Vader's TIE starfighter leapt out of the _Exactor's _primary hangar, the Sith Lord found himself wondering if he hadn't misjudged the feeling he'd had while on the bridge of his star destroyer.

Aloud, he muttered, "I know I've felt this before, but how…" The question didn't really feel complete, feel true, even in his own mind.

Behind Vader, a group of ten TIE starfighters screeched through the vacuum of space. The newly commissioned vessels shone brightly in Bakura's sun's last remaining rays as it slipped behind the Outer Rim planet in the distance. The men contained within the ships were concerned about the unexpectedness of their flight, but were unhesitant in following their leader. They hadn't witnessed Vader's actions before launch, but even the least Force-sensitive pilot in the formation could feel the uncertainty in their leader flow through their minds as they sped towards the blue-green globe before them. ES-68-2, the pilot of the fighter immediately to Vader's right, was the first to report the signals that were steadily moving closer to a large space station in Bakura's orbit. The group of eighteen stocky starcraft showed no signs of aggression neither towards the incoming Imperial fighters nor to the Bakuran station, but, as the TIE's drew closer, Darth Vader's abrupt command was clear.

"Head for the rear of that formation of fighters." Obediently, all of Vader's pilots made the appropriate changes to their flight paths and changed direction accordingly. "ES-68-1, send a secure message to the Bakuran station alerting them to the approaching hostile ships. Ask the base commander to hold his fire until we can take up position on the enemy's rear flank. Order the Bakurans to fire at will on my command only, so that we will catch the dissidents in a crossfire, and annihilate them." As the TIE pilot, a Corellian by birth whose true name didn't matter in the service of the Empire, fulfilled Vader's order, he wondered how Vader knew the distant ships were "dissidents". Nonetheless, his leader's last words energized both him and the rest of the squadron as they neared their quarry.

Much to the chagrin of the 18 unprepared vessels floating, unaware and helpless, between the planet and the OCC.

The TIE starfighters were quicker and more maneuverable than the Buzzards under the command of _Deredith's Memory. _ The pilots of the Imperial Navy had hundreds of hours that amounted to months of practical training in the cockpits of their ships, and some had even participated in live-action combat. Vader, a veteran of the Clone Wars, had the most experience of any of the Imperial pilots, and, armed with the Force, could have single-handedly defeated most of the men and women opposing him.

Most, but not all.

There was one in the midst of the enemy who possessed skills that equaled the Dark Lord's abilities in both starfighter handling and the use of the Force. This being, this Force-user, easily avoided the OCC's initial, and fully unannounced, blasts as Vader's order to fire crackled over his secure transmission to the Bakuran station.

Vader, upon seeing his enemy's evasive maneuvers and feeling again a surge in the man's Force signature, was now, almost completely sure of who it was.

"Master Windu," he hissed silently as the first deadly bolts of energy from his ship tore into one of the quickly scattering V-shaped Buzzards as they aborted their mission, and headed for safer space. Vader's unfortunate target, unable to raise shields fast enough, exploded into an intense yellow light that dissipated quickly as the Dark Lord's ship pressed through the debris in search of another rebel fighter. He found one, obviously not Mace Windu, but instead, piloted by a frenzied aviator twisting his fighter into a long series of loops and turns in a vain effort to ward off the Imperial forces closing in on him. Vader hastened the woman's demise with two well-placed bursts from his forward lasers that caught the Buzzard's exposed thrusters, and another member of _Deredith's Memory _became little more than dust.

Darth Vader searched frantically for other targets, but most of the rest of his prey had already fled the battle space taking refuge, it seemed, on the far side of the planet. Only two Buzzards remained close to the scene of the fight, and one of those was clearly incapacitated; one of its bulky wings having been shredded to ribbons. The other fought valiantly against three circling TIE fighters. The desperate Buzzard even managed to knock one of them into a fiery descent to the planet below before finally succumbing to the other two fighters' repeated blasts

"Lord Vader, our scanners indicate that the Bakuran space station has destroyed four of the enemy craft, and winged another. We've eliminated eight others, and have lost only three of our own ships. The remaining five enemy craft have fled to the far side of the planet. We still have the numerical advantage. Shall we pursue?"

Vader contemplated ES-68-2's words, but declined his request to continue the battle away from the station where they clearly had, not only, a numerical advantage, but a strategic one. Besides, the feeling that Mace Windu was one of the five that had escaped was unmistakable, and Vader refused to underestimate a man who had cheated death at his hands once already. Surely, he surmised, Windu would have some traps set along his escape route. And there would be time to deal with the Jedi master, but now was not it.

"No. We shall offer the Bakuran forces aboard the station our… assistance in interrogating the lone survivor. In fact, inform the commander of the space station that the prisoner is to be left alone until my arrival. I want to speak to him myself. The five escapees will suffer, in due time."

"Yes milord. As you wish."

Darth Vader, once the proud Jedi, Anakin Skywalker, truly wished for only one thing at the moment.

To see Mace Windu fall under his blade.


	10. Questions in the Dark

_Chapter 9: Questions in the Dark_

Rayna Tocklebee's eyes snapped open, and met absolute darkness. She frantically looked to her left, then to her right, in hope of finding a light. Any light. Not even a faintly illuminated commlink or alarm bulb presented itself to her. She struggled with the idea that her eyes were open, but she could see nothing.

"Where am I?" She spat aloud.

As if in response to her question, a low, mechanical breath cut through the pitch-black ink around her.

"Who's there? Who are you? Please…" She fought the tears that welled around her eyes from falling, and angrily growled the rest of her sentence, "…let me out of here."

Again, the rhythmic intake of breath followed by the slow, wheezing expulsion of carbon dioxide. Rayna tried to imagine why someone would need a respirator in a room so obviously full of breathable air.

"Look, I don't know what you want, but I have friends that will be looking for me. They'll – "

The voice she had hoped to hear, the voice proving that there was indeed someone else in the room, was so loud and full of malice that Rayna Tocklebee's tears finally fell onto her lap. She found her throat muscles constrict as her tormentor's words echoed around her.

"They'll do nothing. They believe you are dead. They left you to me."

There had been no question, so Rayna remained silent. Instead, she wiped away the salty liquid from her cheeks and cursed herself for having perhaps shown the owner of the frightening voice that she was very scared. More scared than she had been when she had learned of her parents' deaths four years ago at the age of sixteen. More scared than he had been when she had been arrested by the Bakuran forces for a crime she hadn't committed but simply because she opposed their authority. More scared than she believed humanly possible, and all because of the tone of those horrible statements her jailor had uttered.

"You'll answer my questions, or you'll suffer. Is that clear?"

Rayna remained silent, but rubbed aimlessly at a persistent kink in her right shoulder; a fruitless attempt to look unafraid.

Abruptly, there was a whoosh of air to Rayna's left, but before she could turn her head, she felt a vice-like grip about her neck without the sensation of fingers that usually accompanied the panicked feeling of being choked.

"Is? That? Clear?" Each word a question all on its own. The vice had loosened a bit, and Rayna found her voice weak and hushed as she answered affirmatively.

"Good. Very good."

Rayna slumped into her chair that, she realized for the first time, had no constraints attached to it. She was, quite literally, free to move about the darkened room, but for some reason, she chose not to. Instead, she waited impatiently for the impending first question. It took minutes before the voice spoke again. The horrible breathing, however, was constant. It made Rayna fidget in her seat and sweat profusely. The expanding moisture tickled her back, and she moved absently about without ever leaving her seat, even more.

"Have you ever heard of a man, a Jedi, by the name of Mace Windu?"

Rayna's blue eyes widened slightly, before she caught herself, at the mention of Master Windu's name. How did this man know about Master Windu? She quickly decided to lie as much as possible so that she would not be responsible for supplying her captor with information he could use against _Deredith's Memory_.

"I don't know who you're talking about," she hissed confidently hoping the strength of her voice would convince her interrogator that she did, indeed, know no one by that name.

"You're lying." The brief but fearless statement shook Rayna. The abruptness and certainty of those words convinced the woman to work harder to make her lies more believable…somehow. She decided to go on the offensive.

"Look, if you're going to accuse me of lying every time I say something you don't want to hear, then maybe you should just kill me now because I've got nothing else to say. So why don't you take that back to your superior officer, you joke."

There was a long, awkward moment of silence that followed Rayna's angry outburst.

"Lights."

Instantly, dim lights flickered to life above Rayna's head, and the prisoner was forced to shut her eyes at the sudden assault on her pupils. She lifted her head, facing the newly lit bulbs with her eyes still shut, and swallowed visibly. She then exhaled loudly, and brought her face down to confront her tormentor. She winced and her eyes became mere slits as she caught sight of the black-clad behemoth before her. She unwittingly shook her head while a soft, mewling whimper escaped her open mouth.

"Do you know Mace Windu? Is he part of your pitiful band of troublemakers?" The monster leaned forward, as if he needed to in order to better hear her response, and placed his hands on his hips in anticipation. He was close enough to Rayna's face that she almost believed she could see into the great, black lenses of his mask and make out a corroded visage. She was horrified when she came to the realization that it was her own twisted reflection she saw in the Sith Lord's facemask.

Rayna Tocklebee shrunk back in her chair in revulsion. She couldn't answer his questions, even if she wanted to. She had heard of this man. This machine. She knew he was the Empire's greatest assassin and the most devastating force the universe had, quite possibly, ever known. He was the Dark Lord, Darth Vader.

To be absolutely sure, she sputtered, "You're Darth Vader. You…you kill…everybody. You're evil. The personification of evil."

Vader turned slightly, pleased his name instilled fear in those that heard it even here on a backwater planet like Bakura, a planet he had yet to set foot on. He pressed his newfound advantage.

"I am." His words, unlike everything else he'd said until this point, sounded almost content. They sounded like he took great pride in the knowledge that she knew who he was, and that she recognized him for what he was.

A monster.

"I'm sure you know too that I can break every bone in your body." Rayna groaned as a bone in her index finger snapped audibly as Vader lifted his own towards her. "One by one. It will be quite painful, I'm afraid. You will scream for mercy, but I'll offer none…" He let the word hang in the stuffy air for a second. "…unless you answer my questions truthfully." A second bone, this one farther up her arm, splintered, and through the pain, Rayna Tocklebee slowly nodded her head. She was no warrior, she thought, and she was not meant to endure this sort of pain, but she would not give up what she knew about Mace Windu and _Deredith's Memory _without forcing Vader to snap a few more of her bones. She grit her teeth, and looked up defiantly at the most feared man in the galaxy when suddenly the lights above her fizzled, crackled, and died. While the darkness enveloped her again, the growing seed of defeat in the pit of her stomach flowered.

As the hours passed, and Rayna Tocklebee's issued her last words, the athletic young Bakuran, and dedicated member of _Deredith's Memory_, finally discovered that her falling tears were cathartic. They allowed her a sort of absolution as she thought briefly, for the last time, of the men and women she had surely, and unwantedly, betrayed.


	11. Discussing Defeat

_Chapter 10: Discussing Defeat_

The setting sun provided the scattered members of _Deredith's Memory _ample shadow to feel safe enough to emerge from their hiding spots, and settle into an uncomfortable dialogue. It had been almost two whole days since the failed attempt at capturing Bakura's principal communications facility, and the survivors of the botched attack had kept out of sight as they had planned should something go wrong. Mace Windu's suggestion that, in case of failure, the surviving pilots first meet at a neutral location hadn't been well received or understood. Most of the others were, after all, novices when it came to implementing battle plans, but they had done their best to follow the well conceived, if not overly cautious, escape plan. As it turned out, Mace Windu had devised a flawless design to avoid capture, and none of the pilots had been tracked to this secret location some fifteen kilometers away from the home base where the others, presumably, waited anxiously for their pilots' return. Unfortunately, the fact that they had had to use the escape plan at all did not sit well with some of the people packaged into the small cave that had been chosen as the emergency rendezvous point.

One of those people was Implik Gulliston; former leader of _Deredith's Memory_.

"What did I say? What did I say?" Implik spoke to everyone present, and to no one at all.

Mace Windu had been the last to join the other four men seated around the makeshift, and hastily prepared fire which crackled and spit like a small predatory creature, cornered and desperate, Mace remembered seeing before on Haruun Kal a few months after the start of the Clone Wars. It reminded him too that at least three of the people in the shelter, surely feeling equally cornered and desperate, were still reeling over the recent events involving some of their comrades-in-arms. While Implik Gulliston had forbidden his tears from making an appearance in front of the others, the same could not be said about Jolk Fabaree and Sacca Chiff. Both strong but normally silent men had, upon seeing the few who had also escaped harm, wept openly for their lost friends, and in at least one case family, but had soon settled down into a morose silence. Mace even noticed his own apprentice, Makkan Libb, had lowered his eyes and chin so as to not upset the men beside him who might consider his lack of tears to be offensive and uncaring. Finally, with an iron edge to his voice, Mace Windu spoke aloud.

"Sit down, Implik. That's enough. We were all there, and we're all suffering in our own ways. But that's enough."

Implik's next words died in mid-air, only to be replaced by an incredulous "What?".

Mace's eyes narrowed perceptibly. "I said that's enough. It's over, Implik. We have to look forward now. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry. _You're sorry_. Are you kidding me? You heartless bastard. Did you not see those people, our people, killed…slaughtered? Those ships came out of nowhere and blew our guys into dust. And all you can say is 'that's enough. It's over.' It was you're stupid plan in the first place, and all you can say is 'sorry'. What is wrong with you?"

But before Mace could say anything, Implik roared again.

"Some of our best men and women died out there today. Rayna, Thull, Sorro-Nu, the list goes on. We lost twelve, no, thirteen ships out there. We…" Implik's voice cracked for the first time since he'd begun speaking. "…I lost some good friends today, and you, Jedi, you don't care one bit." Implik stopped talking, and stomped out towards the entrance of the cave where he gazed at the gathering darkness, and sighed noisily hoping in some way that the sound further demonstrated just how angry he was.

Mace pinched the bridge of his nose until it actually hurt. His vision swooned and clouded over while in his mind the sight of Implik Gulliston's wry smile across his thin face stared back into Windu's soul. A shatterpoint perhaps? Windu would have liked to have had more time to think about, to consider, what he was seeing, but the vision quickly faded away at the sound of Makkan Libb's voice.

"Master. Master Windu, they're leaving. You have to stop them."

Mace looked down into the coal black eyes of his dark-haired Padawan, then searched the cave for the other men. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Sacca Chiff's tight, teal jumpsuit disappear behind a bulge in the rock that formed the cave's opening. Mace made to follow them but found that the mechanical legs beneath him did not want to respond as efficiently as they ought to. There was no problem with his prosthetics, they were functioning within normal and expected parameters, but, at that moment, they seemed too bulky to offer Windu the speed he felt he needed to cover the relatively short distance that lay between him and the entrance from which Implik and the other two men had just left. Eventually, he brought the short, but trying journey to an end.

"Where are you going?" Windu almost expected the men to continue on their way, ignoring the Jedi, and was pleasantly surprised when the three of them turned around to face him. As they did, he ran his hand over his shaved skull, and felt the jagged scar that he'd earned in his battle with Palpatine and Skywalker so many years ago.

"If you leave now, you're turning your back on those people who died in the skies above us. You're turning your backs on the people waiting our return in the valley below. You're turning your back on _Deredith's Memory_. Everything we've earned, and won, and, yes, lost, will mean nothing. Nothing. I think we would dishonor the sacrifices our people, our friends made for our cause, for a better life, if we turn our backs on this endeavor now. I can live with their deaths on my conscience provided we don't give it all up because we lost a fight. I _can't_ live with the disgrace of making their deaths just another empty promise of 'well, we tried'. Can you? Can you live with that?"

Jolk and Sacca shuffled towards Windu before the invisible grasp of Implik Gulliston's gaze grabbed them both by their collars and held them in place. The two bulky men looked at each other, then, as if they had rehearsed it, they shrugged simultaneously. Sacca, the more vocal of the otherwise quiet duo, shifted his mass back towards Implik, the smaller man's arms placed rigidly at his sides, and whispered, "He's right, you know. We can't just leave now. We owe it to…them." Sacca had almost said his sister's name, Liolla, but the memory of her final words, 'I'm hit. I'm done', still echoed in his mind. He had tuned into Liolla's comm unit after he'd witnessed a TIE fighter's green lasers chew up his sister's port side, and had hoped to talk her down safely to the planet's surface. Instead, he had only permanently superimposed the final brilliant image of her Buzzard disintegrating into a million pieces onto his mind's eye. There, they burned brightly enough so that even the few fits of sleep he'd managed over the last forty-eight hours were spent in agony and despair.

Implik's glare softened, he knew intuitively what Sacca had meant to say, and the fight in him disappeared. He staggered to the rock wall to his left, supported himself with the palm of his hand against the cold, hard stone, and muttered something no one else could hear.

Mace took the incident as an indication that his men needed more time before returning to the base camp, before having to return to the others with the smell of defeat still clinging to their bodies, and with the knowledge that defeated men did not always speak honestly with their words but with the sadness in their eyes. He nonchalantly ordered them back into the cave for the night. None of them resisted, but Implik managed a long moment of unspoken, but clearly hateful, words directed at Master Windu as he passed the Jedi to gain entrance to the burrow that would protect them from the coldness of Bakura's night.

It would not protect them, however, from what wait for them fifteen kilometers away at, what was for the moment to them, a safe retreat.


End file.
